Date: Mon, 18 Dec 2000 21:32:57 EST
From: Aaron002@aol.com
Subject: The Stranded Boy, Chase-2
The previous entry of "The Stranded Boy, Chase" is actually supposed to be
a series, but being negligent as I am, I forgot to write #1 next to the
first title. This is my second entry of "...Chase". I'd like the series
to be pretty long, but I'm pretty lazy so I don't know how far I'll take
it. I also have school, so it might take a while to get into the habit of
writing these. Anyway, thanks for reading and email me with whatever at
Aaron002@aol.com. I don't even care if it's hate mail. I'll gladly accept
anything you have to offer.
"The Stranded Boy, Chase"
Chapter 2
The first sound I heard in the morning was never that of bluebirds. It was
always my alarm clock. "Shit, shit, shit!" I yelled as I opened my eyes
and heard the terrible sound of the clock. I knew that I was late again.
Why didn't anyone wake me up? School begins everyday at 7:30 in the
morning; I woke up everyday at eight in the morning. I guess, I don't have
to tell you that my first period teacher hated me. Taking a swift look at
the clock, I ran to the shower. I turned the water on and jumped in. It
never took me long to shower; I was out of there within ten minutes.
Entering my room, I took another look at the clock. "7:42, shit!" I
shrieked. I already knew that I would be late, but for reasons unknown to
me (or maybe hidden deep in my subconscious), I didn't accept it. I ran
back to my room to dress. Oh God, I had no clean clothes. Running to the
hamper, I took out my old khakis, smelled them, and threw them to the
floor. For about 20 minutes, I rummaged through my hamper, my closet, and
my floor. I found nothing clean enough to wear. I ran downstairs with the
towel still around my waist to check if my parents were still home.
"Late again?" my mom asked a bit colder than usual as I made my way down
the stairs to the kitchen. She was sitting at the table eating cereal and
reading her morning paper.
"Why didn't you wake me up?"
"Am I going to have to wake you up when you're in college too? Actually,
it wouldn't be that hard. I'd just buy you one of those special alarm
clocks with my voice in it, and set it for 6 in the morning. That way
you'd hear the beautiful voice of your mother telling you to get the fuck
up every morning of your life til you turned fifty." She said this with
her eyes still fixed on the newspaper and the undaunted cup of coffee still
in her hand. Sarcasm ran in the family.
"Forget it. Look, I don't have any clothes. I mean, I don't have any
clean ones and I'm late." I wasn't sure if she cared, but it was worth a
try to ask for help.
"Weren't you supposed to do your laundry this weekend? What am I thinking?
You never do your own laundry." She stood up, took my hand, and led me to
my younger brother's room. "There," she said pointing to a bag, presumably
full of clean clothes. "I did your laundry, lazy. But it's the last time."
I smiled and kissed her cheek. Sarcastic or not, she was a wonderful
mother.
Running to my room with the bag, I let the towel drop to the floor. I
swung it to my bed, and picked a matching shirt and pants as quickly as I
could. Putting on my underwear, I stared at the mirror. I smiled at my
form. It wasn't bad. Of course, I didn't have to dye my hair jet black,
but it was a question of identity. Everyone at school was busy bleaching
their hair blond. Being inherently blond, I couldn't stand their actions.
I wanted to be different so I did what I thought best. I wasn't built, but
not at all flimsy. I stared deeply into the eyes of my reflection. Blue.
I laughed, and quickly dressed. I never bothered to comb my hair and left
it to air dry.
My bike stood outside waiting for me. I hopped on and rode to school.
"Late again, Mr. Parker?" Staring at my teacher, I said nothing as I
entered the classroom. "Well, I guess that's what I should expect from a
kid who can't tell time. Do you have the homework?" I couldn't stand
Mr. Thompson. But from the sound of it, I don't think he like me either.
"Well, why don't I come after school, and you can teach me to tell time
Mr. Thompson? I'm sure that I wouldn't keep your computer - whoops, I
mean, your girlfriend - waiting too long." The room shook with the
laughter of the students. I strode towards his desk and laid my homework
there. (I did the same thing everyday.) I took my seat in the back of the
room and waited for the bell to ring.
The day, as I expected, was very boring. I read; I slept; I ate. (I did
this everyday.) I can't remember the last time I paid attention in my
classes, but I also can't remember the last time I got less than a B in any
of them.
Looking up at the clock during the last period of the day, I awaited the
bell. "Come on, come on," I whispered. After five minutes of my litany,
it finally rang. I ran out of the classroom to my locker. Of course I had
nothing to do after school, but I was getting tired of seeing the faces of
my teachers and my peers. All of them smiling, laughing, loitering! Just
then, I felt a finger on my shoulder. I jumped and quickly turned around.
"So, what are we doing today?" It was Nick.
"Oh... yeah, I forgot that it was Monday." I'd forgotten all about him.
How? I couldn't say. But as he stood there, I remembered every parcel of
my fantasies about him the week before. His wet chest in the shower after
his games; his silky lips; his soft brown hair; his beautiful hazel eyes
with the specs of gold. "Anyway, you shouldn't jump on people like that."
I said, and he smiled.
"Sorry. Didn't know you were so sensitive to the touch," he said laughing.
Without another word spoken, we walked to Ms. Watts' classroom.
Immediately after we got there, he took a seat. He was staring and smiling
at me again. "So, do you know why you're tutoring me?" he asked. Of
course I knew. He needed help in history.
"Hmm, I don't know. Maybe because you need help in history," I answered
taking the heavy history book out of my bag.
"Actually, I'm great at history. Ask Ms. Watts. I was doing great up
until about a month ago."
"What happened? Did you have an emotional breakdown or something?" Was it
just me, or were his eyes changing colors? Were his lips glistening at the
touch of his wet tongue? Was his brown hair shimmering as the rays of the
sun hit each individual strand? Slowly, he was changing from beautiful
boy, to a wondrous god. An Adonis. Where did I hear that stupid word used
before? Lord, he was beautiful.
"Actually, my sister and I made a bet." He was still smiling, but I could
tell that he was also shaking somewhat. "I bet that... well, she says
that..."
"You bet what? Dude, we need to do this. I don't care if I get an A in
Ms. Watts' class, but I can't stand the thought of her chasing after me
because I didn't do my job and got you a B. She does that, you know?" I
frowned. I wasn't at all annoyed. In fact, I enjoyed the sight of his
quivering lips, but I had to pretend that I didn't care. I had to stand my
ground as the detached boy who could care less if there was a beautiful
junior sitting in front of him with glistening, trembling lips.
"Um, ok. I bet that... that you're... Well, no. My sister... Well, you
know how Sandra Dumont asked you to the prom and you told her that you
would only take her when the moon turns black and falls to the earth
killing everyone but her?" He laughed and so did I.
"Yea, I remember."
"Well, why'd you do that? I mean she's hot. She's popular and she was
voted one of the top ten hottest girls in the senior class."
What? Was this what the kid was after? Why I wasn't going out with that
stuck-up bitch? Oh God. I remembered how she pretended to cry when I told
her that she was an idiot, and that I'd rather date the hundred-year-old
lunch lady than her. I laughed at the thought of her calling me, telling
me to take her to the movies. She was very bossy. "She's a bitch.
Everyone knows it. I'm just the only one not afraid to say it to her face.
I don't know why she even asked me out. I don't even LOOK at anyone in her
stupid clique. I don't know why she..." He didn't let me finish.
"Well, 'cause you're hot!" he exclaimed. My face contorted as I stared at
him. He also grimace, blushed a deep red, and turned away. I smiled.
"Look, I'm not social. Actually I'm totally ANTISOCIAL. Everyone knows
it. I don't like 'em. I don't think I like anyone except for my little
brother, or my mom... you know, like the people I live with because I have
to."
"Not even me?" he asked and blushed again. "Forget it. Look, I'm sorry."
He laughed, but I could tell that it was forced.
"No, I mean, what was the bet?" Now I was interested. Why was this kid
blushing?
"Never mind. Just forget I said anything. Anyway, I need to know the
stuff about... about... you know, about McCarthy and the communists or
whatever." Was he still blushing? I no longer thought he was a jerk like
I did last week.
I smiled. I still thought of him as an Adonis though. His eyes were still
gleaming, and so was his hair. "Tell me about the bet, and I'll tell you
about the communists."
"Well, after you didn't want to go out with Sandra," he stood out of his
chair and walked to the window, I assumed to avoid my gaze. "I told my
sister that you might, maybe be oh, I don't know, gay." It was my turn to
blush.
"What?" I roared. I think that everyone in the whole three-story building
might have heard me.
He ran to the desk where his bag lay and began to pack his books, getting
ready to leave. "Look, it was just a bet. I mean I'm not... I mean... it
was just a stupid bet." He snatched his book from the desk all but ripping
the pages out. His hands were shaking. "Look, forget about the tutoring,
ok? I can manage. I mean, Ms. Watts' class isn't that hard. I was
actually doing pretty good a while ago."
I was growing calmer. I stared as he fumbled through his things. He
looked nervous, anxious. I tilted my head and watched in amazement as he
tried desperately to close his overstuffed bag. I snickered. Reaching
over, I zipped the bag for him. Our hands rubbed against each other's and
to my bemusement, I felt a growth in my crotch. Was I getting aroused?
Shit! Was he blushing? Shit! I looked down to his crotch, and I could
have sworn there was a bulge there.
Quickly, I turned to face the windows. "Look man, how about we just forget
you said anything. And we do this tutoring thing another time, k?"
"OK," he said simply. He took his bag and all but ran out of the
classroom.
Oh God, I thought. What's wrong with me? This isn't good!